A Hard Beginning
by woundedhearts
Summary: Just a short one shot about the true definition of family and finding where you belong.


A Hard Beginning

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><p>He did it again. He swore he wouldn't but he did. You would think he'd be used to it by now, the lies, the late nights of binge drinking, the slurred speech and the bouts of anger, his fear of the unknown. He had lived with it for years. He should understand. At the ripe old age of eleven, he'd seen it all. He'd grown up fast. He had no choice, having a father like Garth.<p>

It wasn't Garths fault when everything went south. That's what his father would say when he lost another job, or they were kicked out of another place to live. It was the world, the world was against him. No one understood. No one cared to listen to his problems. That is, no one but the bartenders and the liquor store clerks who furnished him with what he referred to as his medicine.

He'd often said he needed the liquid to survive. If he went a day, an hour without it, he wouldn't be able to function. The substance was his life and Marion should understand that. But, he didn't, over the years he'd come to hate that stuff. The smell alone was enough to send him running for the nearest bathroom toilet.

Until one day he'd had enough. One day he'd became wise and decided to save his father from the addiction he'd grown to love.

He began hiding the bottles or pouring them out. Something he soon learned to regret because when his father found out what he'd been up to. At the tender age of seven he'd officially earned his first trip to the emergency room. But he didn't hate Garth for it. No, after his father had cried and told him how sorry he was and how much he loved him. Marion forgave him. After all it wasn't his fault, nothing was ever his fault. He didn't blame him, he blamed the alcohol.

Still, he longed for a normal life, the kind you saw on television screens and old magazine covers. He found himself wishing for that life. When he was lucky enough to watch TV, he wished with all his heart that he could somehow be transported into that small screen. Two parents that loved him, a big brother to protect him, and maybe even a dog running around in the yard that would play with him.

He came close a couple of times when he's father had been arrested and he was taken to a foster home. Some he hated, but most were pretty decent places.

He remembered his father waking him up one night angry because there was no food. He was having one of his episodes, this one worse than most. He didn't remember much past the pain. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door and in the next moment the door was kicked in. He figured the screaming must have alerted the neighbors and they called the police. That night, his father was put in handcuffs and shoved into the back of a police car. Marion had never been so happy and so relieved in his young life.

He was dropped off with a real family. A family he'd grown to love over his short visit. He had a mom who could cook, a big brother, and a little poodle named Calvin. But the best part of it all was Joe. Joe was his father. Well, for the time being. For six amazing months he lived a normal life. He went to school, had family dinners, planned family outings and for once Garths problems didn't cross his mind. They even celebrated his eleventh birthday together. Something he'd never done with his father.

But then the fairy tale ended and reality returned with a vengeance. One evening as they were finishing up dinner there was a loud crash heard outside the front door and then the sound of someone swearing. Marion didn't have to look to know who that was.

When Joe walked up to the door and told the rest of them to stay back he took a peek through an opening in the curtains and his eleven year old heart shattered. Standing in the yard in a drunken stupor was his father.

"Where's that damn kid at?"

He'd recognize that slurred speech anywhere. It was like nails against a chalk board and he hated it. But, he couldn't let Garth hurt his family. So he did the only thing he could he ran out the back and came around to the front. With tears in his eyes he stepped up to his father and took his hand. In spite of much protest he walked with him into the darkness, afraid to look over his shoulder at the faces of the people who'd given him the only happiness he'd ever known.

They ran into the shadows past the pretty houses with the cut lawns and white fences. Past the neighborhood park and his school, past the dream of a life that could never truly be his and Marion never felt so alone in his life.

Sitting there on that cold empty street waiting for the last bus to take him back to a life he wanted so desperately to escape, he thought of how unfair things were. He didn't know when the tears began to pour but as they did so, he realized he couldn't do this anymore. Looking down the street at a pair of headlights heading toward the stop he did the only thing he could think of. He got up, walked into the middle of the road and stood there crying. Marion closed his eyes as he waited for his nightmare to end.

His father barely had enough time to push them out of the way before the driver slammed on his breaks and brought the car to a screeching halt. "What the hell were you thinking boy?" Garth growled as he shook him by the shoulders. "You could have been killed."

"I can't do this anymore, please, I wanna go back, take me back?"

Suddenly the little boy saw something he never thought he would. He saw compassion in his father's eyes as his tears too began to fall. He didn't know what made him change his mind that night but in the next moment he felt himself being lifted into those strong arms as he continued to cry into his shoulder.

The next thing he knew he was being deposited on his family's doorstep and as his father kissed his cheek and waved goodbye one last time. In that moment, Marion knew deep in his heart, the man he thought hated him, really did love him.

One year later he was officially declared a permanent member of the family, complete with a new name. Marion Moseby.

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><p>An: I love Moseby, we don't know much about his background so it's fun to imagine what his childhood was like. This is just one of those what ifs that had to be explored. Something small that was nagging at me. Anyway, please read and review. Thanks :)<p> 


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